The other night was the night I dreamed of my ex. I only had three exes in my entire life. The first one–even with our tumultuous Romeo and Juliet kind-of-thing and a history together– doesn’t even count. I dreamed of the boy I had fallen for and who had broken my heart. Although I knew from the start that there wouldn’t be a happy ending for us both, I still plunged in head over heels in “love”. Yet nobody knew the extent of my feelings for him at that time, not even him. But that was a long time ago. Thirteen years ago to be exact. I had moved on and moved past from that time of my life and been married for almost eleven years now.
It was strange to dream of someone I haven’t thought of for years. Stranger still to feel long ago emotions again where I still feel something for a boy I once loved and gotten over with in that weird dream of mine. It was like being in that moment where I still loved my ex. But what weirded me out was that in that dream, my ex was as young as when I knew him then and I was like I am now–a woman in her mid 30s–and feeling the same feelings I had for him thirteen years past. Yikes!
And now after hours from that dream, I’m sort of having a slight hangover. I now wonder what became of him and felt a tinge of sadness for the girl I used to be and the love I once had for him. It’s like I’m feeling the tiniest hint of the past pain when I’m actually really happy and in love with the person I ended up with. Stupid weird dream that was.